


Save It for a Rainy Day

by DisnerdingAvenger



Series: Prompt Fills [7]
Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017), Disney - All Media Types, Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Original Series, Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Theatre, F/M, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23637988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisnerdingAvenger/pseuds/DisnerdingAvenger
Summary: A collection of fanfics written for Leia, inspired by our Great Big Chaotic Crossover College AU™. Don't ask how this came to exist; it would simply be too complicated to explain.
Relationships: Adam & Eugene Fitzherbert & James T. Kirk & William Riker & Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Adam & Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider, Adam/Belle (Disney), Belle & OC, Belle & Rapunzel (Disney), Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel, James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James T. Kirk/OC, Leonard "Bones" McCoy/OC, OC Friendships, Rapunzel & OC, William Riker & James T. Kirk, William Riker/Oc
Series: Prompt Fills [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1300319
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	1. All of My Life, it’s been Heartbreak Weather (But it Feels Different When You’re With Me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [okayhotshot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/okayhotshot/gifts).



> Happy belated Easter! The bunny leaves eggs, and I gift fluffy fanfics.

Adam had just stepped out of the shower in his en-suite bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair still dripping, when the door to his room flew open and Belle rushed inside, shutting the door behind her and locking it firmly. She’d clearly been in such a hurry that she failed to notice Adam’s state of dress (or lack-there-of), and it wasn’t until she turned away from the now locked door that she finally clued in, her eyes flying wide open and her cheeks turning pink.

“Oh! You’re – you just – oh,” the usually so articulate brunette stammered, quickly diverting her gaze to the floor and mumbling, “Sorry. I should’ve knocked.”

Frowning, Adam shook his head and took a few steps away from the en-suite. Belle herself was soaked and dripping onto the floor, but not from showering; she’d clearly run across campus in what was presently a downpour, and she looked _freezing_.

“Don’t apologize,” Adam told her, closing the distance between them regardless of how underdressed he presently was. Tilting her chin up so she would look at him, he asked, “Gaston?”

It wasn’t a question so much as an assumption. They had come to an arrangement weeks ago, after their first encounter in the campus library, that his room at the fraternity house would be a sort of sanctuary. Regardless of whether he was home, she could lock herself in there if Gaston had the gall to make her feel unsafe. He’d even gone so far as to give her a key – one which she appeared to have just used to get in. Which meant that she’d been in a hurry, which meant –

“Did he _follow you_ here?”

Deflating slightly, still shivering from the rain, Belle quietly admitted, “I don’t know. He may have. I was going back to my dormitory after the library closed, and he was… _waiting there_. Outside. I don’t think I could have gotten in without him slipping in after me, and I just… didn’t want to risk it. So, I came here.”

Adam could feel his frown growing the longer Belle recounted what had happened.

“Belle, you need to call campus security. This is getting out of hand-”

“It’s not a big deal-”

“He’s _stalking_ you!”

Bristling, water still dripping from her hair, a frown of her own found its way onto Belle’s face as she stated, a tad icily, “I can take care of myself. I don’t need to go running to campus security just because some _brute_ decided to loiter on my doorstep. What _good_ would that do? Girls who have been _raped_ go to campus security, or to the police, and what happens? They get shamed for trying to ruin _a poor, innocent athlete’s_ career. _No_. I’m not going to flush everything I’ve worked for, my _scholarship_ , down the toilet just because he made me feel uncomfortable.”

“He’s doing a bit more than simply _making you uncomfortable-_ ” Adam attempted to protest, prompting Belle to turn around and reach for the door to unlock it and leave the way she came.

“I’m not going to let you _lecture me_ about things that you don’t understand-”

“ _Belle_.”

She froze when she felt his hand, gentle and still warm from the shower, at her elbow. When she didn’t move to go, but also didn’t turn around to remain, Adam softly insisted, “Stay. Please. It’s pouring outside and you’re already soaked; you’ll catch your death if you go running around in a storm.”

Gently turning Belle around to face him, Adam smirked as he added, “And if you get sick, who will _honestly_ critique my performance as Corny Collins? Everyone else will just lie and tell me what I want to hear, and that’s dreadfully boring.”

Her bristling demeanour letting up slightly, Belle crossed her arms over her chest.

“You do like to be challenged, don’t you?”

“ _Immensely_ ,” he drawled as his smirk grew, lifting a hand to brush a few wet strands of hair out of her face before turning and crossing the room to his wardrobe. Trying her best not to stare at his hips and the precariously positioned towel clinging to them, Belle looked up when Adam asked, “Sweats or pyjamas?”

“What?” she asked, blinking with confusion.

“To wear,” he clarified, tossing a pair of sweatpants onto his bed for himself before asking, “Which would you prefer? You’re soaked to the bone and look frozen. You’re going to change into something dry.”

“You really don’t have to-”

“ _The lady doth protest too much, methinks_ ,” Adam quickly cut Belle off, tossing her a cheeky grin, and she tried her best to fight a grin of her own, but the attempt was futile.

“ _Hamlet_ ,” Belle immediately recognized.

“Leagues better than _Romeo and Juliet_ ,” Adam quipped, earning himself an eyeroll as Belle finally moved away from the door and ventured over to stand beside him near the wardrobe.

“You’re insufferable,” she complained, adding, “but I’ll take your pyjamas and do my best to ignore your insufferableness.”

Barking out a laugh, Adam passed her a flannel pair of pyjama pants and a white t-shirt, gesturing to the en-suite with a flourish.

“I shall do my best to make my company tolerable.”

“Unlikely,” Belle quipped in return as she made her way over to the bathroom, “for you aren’t in my good books after that comment. _And if you were, I would burn my library_.”

“ _My dear lady disdain!_ ” Adam exclaimed in response to her _Much Ado About Nothing_ retort, resting a theatrical hand over his heart. “You _wound_ me.”

“Methinks you’ll live,” Belle countered with a chuckle before shutting the bathroom door behind her, and Adam couldn’t help smiling to himself afterward. Nor could he help, after slipping into his sweatpants, the fact that he gravitated toward his bookshelf and ended up tugging out his well-loved copy of _Much Ado._ While most men fancied themselves a Romeo, he always felt like more of a Benedick: quick-witted and silver-tongued. He’d just never been able to find a Beatrice – someone to match his wit and beat his tongue to the punch.

_But perhaps that had finally changed. Perhaps his match had finally been met._

He’d been wondering that for weeks now, and found himself wondering it even more when Belle ventured out of his en-suite looking far too adorable in his pyjamas, and he wondered it _far_ more when she sat herself down on his bed beside him to peer over his shoulder at what he was reading. Spending time with Belle was engaging, intellectually stimulating, and… _happiness-inducing_. She was different from everyone else he’d allowed himself to get close to, in all of the best ways. She was… _special_.

He thought so as she read over his shoulder, and he thought so when she began to recite aloud the Beatrice lines to echo his Benedick, and he continued to think so as they quoted and talked and laughed themselves into a sleepy haze.

Adam wasn’t sure what time it was when he woke up. The rain was still coming down outside, pattering against the windowpane and bathing the room in pale grey light. It was still early; he could tell that much from the dimness of the light and how quiet the frat house was. There was nobody bustling about, trying to sneak home from one-night stands; nobody was making bacon and eggs or smoothies downstairs in the kitchen; nobody was showering to “Shots” by LMFAO. The only sounds were the rain, the wind, and Belle’s soft breathing.

At some point late last night, they had both dozed off – Adam with _Much Ado About Nothing_ lying on his chest, and Belle with her head a few inches away from the book. Her hair, now dry, was fanned out on his shoulder, and Adam found himself transfixed by her. He was captivated by the way her eyelashes brushed the top of her cheeks and the gentle whisper of every exhale against his skin, and he found himself counting the freckles on her nose while her fingers twitched against his chest. She’d fallen asleep with one hand resting just above his heart, and he absently wondered if she would feel how fast it was beating if she were awake. 

His heart was currently having a field day because this had _never_ happened before. He’d never shared his bed with anyone who wasn’t there for a very specific, erotic purpose – and, when he _did_ welcome a string of people into his room for that reason, they were very rarely still there when he woke up. People liked to talk about his “love ‘em and leave ‘em” reputation, but it was typically the other way around. Everyone he had ever shared his bed with took what they wanted from him and then they left. Adam Dubois was good for a night of fun, or for an expensive spring break trip to Greece, but after the glitter settled and the sun rose, he always found himself alone.

And yet, here was Belle. Belle Desrosiers, who was fiercely independent, fiery, brilliant, and so wonderfully creative. Belle who, Adam felt, was far too good for him. She was here, lying on his chest as the sun rose, sleeping like an angel. She never wanted anything from him; she was always determined to do everything herself, to take care of herself, to _be_ herself. She never asked for anything, and instead spent her time _giving_. She gave him her smiles and her laughter; her bemusement and her disdain; her passion and her compassion; her kindness and her understanding. She was warm, and wonderful, and so very unlike every other person in his life who took, and took, and took until he had nothing left to give.

Adam wanted to give her the world. And, if she wouldn’t accept it, he hoped to offer her his heart instead. It was rather banged up and ill-used, but she had a way of making even his broken heart shine.

As the rain continued to fall outside, Adam moved _Much Ado About Nothing_ and put it on the bedside table, shifting just enough to envelope Belle in his arms as she continued to sleep with her head pillowed on his chest. Pressing his lips to the crown of her head, he softly murmured into her hair, “ _Am I a lord, and have I such a lady? Or do I dream…?_ ”


	2. There’s Always Been a Rainbow Hanging Over Your Head

It was their two-year anniversary today – or, to specify, it was the two-year anniversary of the day that Ryley Pennington, for reasons still unknown to him, finally succumbed to William T. Riker’s charms.

(To specify even further, Ryley would insist that it was the two-year anniversary of the day that Will figured out that she’d been flirting _back_ with him for months and finally asked her out. It was an annoyingly long process, but the end result had been well worth it.)

Whichever version of their anniversary story you chose to believe, today marked two years since that day, and it was supposed to be perfect. They had made reservations at the Italian restaurant not far from campus – the one that took _months_ on a waitlist to get into – and they had tickets to go see a touring production of _Mamma Mia!_ afterward. Ryley had been eagerly awaiting their anniversary plans for weeks.

Therefore, it felt cruelly poetic that a hurricane, of all things, should spoil what was meant to be a perfect evening. She’d been halfway through doing her hair, with her makeup already finished, when an alert made her phone buzz: a rainfall warning. Then, less than five minutes later, the notification noise for her email alerts drew her attention back to her phone, and she made a distressed sound. _Mamma Mia!_ had been cancelled due to weather conditions delaying the cast’s arrival.

_Was the rain **really** that bad? _She had a hard time believing it and was still frowning when her doorbell pulled her gaze away from her phone.

Venturing out of the bathroom, she walked down the hall and opened the door, already certain about who would be standing there – although, she hadn’t quite expected the _state_ that he would be in.

“Oh my God!” Ryley exclaimed, having been greeted at the door by what looked like a sight straight out of an unfortunate sitcom episode.

Poor Will was standing in the hallway outside of her apartment, his wet hair plastered to his forehead and his clothes dripping onto the carpet while he held a very large, and very _broken_ , umbrella that evidently lost a battle against the wind.

“It’s raining,” he stated as if that weren’t obvious from the state of him, and Ryley grabbed his arm and tugged him inside, letting the door swing shut behind them.

“I can _see_ that,” she agreed, grimacing as he dripped onto _her_ floor. “How far did you have to walk? The parking lot had a ton of empty spaces when I got home from class this afternoon-”

“The parking lot,” Will cut in, still holding his broken umbrella. “I walked from the parking lot. This all happened on the fifteen-foot walk from my car to your lobby. It’s… _biblical_ out there.”

Ryley visibly deflated before him. _So much for the cancellation being a dramatic exaggeration._

“Stay there; I’ll get you a towel,” she instructed, hurrying back to the bathroom to grab one. When she returned, fluffy towel in hand, she insisted, “If it’s really that bad, you shouldn’t have driven. What if you’d hydroplaned? Or _worse_?”

“I’m good at driving in the rain,” Will countered, accepting the towel and using it on his hair, shooting Ryley a look that clearly said she wasn’t going to like what he said next. She knew that face well; it was a face that he made frequently, like the time he’d had to confess to her that he and Jim _accidentally_ broke one of her guitars while rehearsing a Guns N’ Roses song they were going to perform to prove, once and for all, to Adam and Eugene that Axl Rose was better than Bret Michaels.

“What?” she asked suspiciously. “ _What did you do_ -?”

“Nothing!” Will insisted, pulling his raincoat off and hanging it up to dry before toeing off his wet shoes. “It’s not _my_ fault that Highway 9 is flooded.”

“Highway 9,” Ryley repeated, taking a moment to process what he meant before her disappointment grew palpable. “But Highway 9 is the only way to get-”

“-to the restaurant,” Will finished, awkwardly fidgeting with his broken umbrella before blurting out, “I’m sorry.”

Despite the clear disappointment in her eyes, Ryley managed a smile and insisted, “Don’t be. After all – it’s not your fault that Highway 9 is flooded. Or that the cast of _Mamma Mia!_ is stranded and the show got cancelled.”

Clearly _that_ wasn’t what Will wanted to hear, if his muttering, “ _Shit_ ,” was any indication. Ryley actually managed a laugh, shaking her head and dragging her boyfriend properly into her apartment.

“It’s fine,” she insisted, pulling the pins out of her curly hair and letting it fall loose, perching herself on the arm of her nearby sofa. “If we’re stuck here for the night, we can make the best of it. I’ve got spaghetti ingredients in the kitchen and _Mamma Mia!_ on DVD – everything we need for the perfect stay-at-home anniversary celebration.”

Stepping forward, Will cracked a smile and pressed a kiss to Ryley’s forehead before pausing. Drawing back enough to look down at her, he asked, “…are _you_ doing the cooking? Because that doesn’t seem very fair to expect of you on our _anniversary_ – but we both know that we’ll be spending the rest of our evening in the emergency room with food poisoning if I do it.”

Smirking, Ryley shook her head and pressed a kiss to her boyfriend’s nose before sliding down off of the couch and back onto her feet, grabbing his hand to pull him toward her kitchen.

“You’re too hard on yourself. You’ve made _some_ good things-”

“Like that omelette I made you for breakfast last week?”

“…like I said, you’ve made _some_ good things,” Ryley quickly skirted around the subject of the omelette, letting go of Will’s hand to pass a pot to him instead. “Like boiling water! Anybody can boil water. You do that, and I’ll get started on the sauce.”

As it turned out, Will _could_ boil water. He was _so good_ at boiling water that he ended up boiling it so much that it boiled _over._ But after that unfortunate mishap was remedied, Ryley put him in charge of stirring the sauce while she added ingredients – a very simple, very _supervised_ task. He excelled at it. He also excelled at being a taste-tester; it was a hobby that he and Jim passionately shared.

But, as they sat on the couch with their homemade pasta while _Mamma Mia!_ played on the television, Will couldn’t help that he still felt guilty. Ryley could tell; he was poking, rather than eating, his food, and he hadn’t sung a single Colin Firth line the entire time they’d been watching the film, and he _always_ sang the Colin Firth lines (largely because he knew it made her laugh). So, she grabbed the remote and paused the movie, looking pointedly up at him. It took him nearly a minute of poking his food before he noticed what was going on.

“You paused the movie,” he observed, in much the same manner he had stated that it was raining, and Ryley smirked and shook her head.

“Another astute observation from Mr. Riker,” she teased, nudging his side from where she was nestled against it. “What’s up with you? You’re being too quiet. You haven’t touched your food, sang Harry’s lines, or done a single bad James Bond impression this whole time.”

“My James Bond impressions aren’t _bad_ ,” Will complained, tossing Ryley a faux-dejected look, but she just arched an eyebrow at his evasion of her real question. Sighing, he sat his bowl of spaghetti down on the coffee table before admitting, “I just feel bad.”

Furrowing her brow, Ryley asked, “About what?”

“About _all_ of it,” Will emphasized, gesturing to their makeshift ‘romantic’ dinner and their surroundings. “I wanted everything to be perfect. You _deserved_ a perfect anniversary. And instead, you ended up cooking your own dinner and spending it on the couch.”

Ryley felt her expression softening instantly. _That_ was what he was worried about? That she was unhappy? Sure, she was a little disappointed that their plans fell through, but it was hardly his _fault_. Setting her own dinner aside, she made a point of grabbing his arm and draping it around her shoulders, nestling more pointedly into his side with a smile.

“Where we go and what we do isn’t what makes an anniversary perfect,” she insisted, reaching a hand up to rest it on his bearded cheek. “What makes it perfect is that we spend it _together._ That’s all that really matters to me. _You_ are what makes me happy, not a fancy Italian restaurant or the Travelling Theatre Troupe from Milwaukee.”

Will still looked skeptical, but it was clear that his concern was beginning to dissipate (even if the rain clouds outside were doing the exact opposite). Lifting a hand to tuck a few curls behind her ear, he quietly admitted, “I know that you’ve had shitty boyfriends cancel important dates in the past; I didn’t want you to think that I-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Ryley interjected, shaking her head. “Don’t even _think_ about comparing yourself to any of them. You’re _nothing_ like them.” Cracking a smile, she added, “Dinner and a show being cancelled because of some rain isn’t going to shake my confidence in you after two good years.”

Sighing softly, Will leaned forward and rested his forehead against Ryley’s, prompting her to bump her nose affectionately against his.

“I just wanted to show you how special you are to me,” he finally said, quietly, as he wound his arms fully around her. “It was going to be the _perfect_ romantic evening, and a _hurricane_ went and ruined it.”

Chuckling, Ryley wrapped her arms around his neck, fluttering her blue eyes open to lock with his.

“We can do dinner and a show anytime,” she insisted, smirking playfully. “You made _pasta sauce_ tonight. That’s a once-in-a-lifetime accomplishment.”

“I _did_ do that, didn’t I?” Will asked, his lips pulling up into a small smile.

“And you didn’t even burn my apartment down!” Ryley agreed with a bright laugh, and the sound seemed to drain any remaining anxiety from Will’s bones. Smirking, he pulled her over onto his lap.

“Is it even possible to burn your apartment down in the middle of a hurricane?”

“If anyone could manage it, I’m sure it would be you,” Ryley quipped, earning herself an indignant “ _Hey!_ ” from her boyfriend that sent her into a fresh wave of laughter – laughter that turned into squeals when he flipped them over on the couch so he was poised on top of her, his fingers beginning to mercilessly tickle her.

“I’m not _that_ much of a kitchen disaster!” he protested.

“You are, though! You really are!” Ryley panted with laughter, trying to push his hands away – a gesture that simply resulted in Will pinning them above her head, which subsequently resulted in their faces being _very_ close to each other.

After a positively electric moment of them just _staring_ at each other, he asked, “How invested are you in finishing _Mamma Mia!_ tonight?”

“Not very,” Ryley answered breathlessly, her pupils blown wide, and she exhaled a soft, pleased little noise when Will responded by pressing his lips to hers, firmly, and with heat.

Their initial plans may have gotten rained out, but Ryley would still tell anyone who asked that their second anniversary was, in fact, _perfect_.

(Will would be inclined to agree.)


	3. With You, I’d Dance in a Storm in my Best Dress - Fearless

Rapunzel loved the rain. She loved the sound of it on her window at night, the way that it felt on her face, how it smelled soaking into freshly cut grass in the summer. So, when she’d looked out her dormitory window that morning and noticed that the world was shrouded in a pleasant summer shower, she hadn’t been deterred from walking to the Dreamweaver Diner for breakfast. She’d grabbed her pink umbrella, her lilac raincoat, stuffed her art supplies into her waterproof messenger bag and set off. What others would consider dreary, Rapunzel thought was a _beautiful_ day. There were still birds singing, huddled in their tree-perches; the wet grass seemed to sparkle in the occasional beam of sunlight that snuck through the thin grey clouds; and there were plenty of puddles to splash in on her walk.

It was a _perfect_ day for painting with watercolours.

She was doing precisely that when Eugene walked over to her table a half-hour after her arrival, clad in the black t-shirt he normally wore for the Sunday shift. Placing a positively _monstrous_ stack of chocolate-chip pancakes in front of her with a decanter of raspberry syrup, he took a peek over her shoulder at what she was working on, grinning involuntarily.

“Only _you_ could make a rainy day look sunny, Blondie,” he observed as he peered down at her sketchbook. She was presently painting a landscape of the view outside of the window beside her, and the seemingly grey world was bursting with colour on her page. Paintbrush poised in her hand, Rapunzel looked up at Eugene with a grin.

“There’s always sunlight, even on the rainiest of days,” she stated simply as if it were obvious, and Eugene’s smile softened. The way that Rapunzel saw the world was just so… _wonderful_. So warm, bright, and full of _light._

His gazing was cut short, however, when there was a shout of, “ _Flynn!_ Table six would probably like their bacon and eggs _before_ they get cold.”

“Yeah, yeah!” Eugene called back with a roll of his eyes, flashing Rapunzel a smile. “Duty calls.”

“Well, I would hate to keep _Flynn_ from his duties,” Rapunzel joked, smirking at him, and he tossed her a wink before turning on his heel to collect his next tray of breakfast orders. She watched him go with a slightly dreamy look of her own shining in her green eyes. It had been almost six months to the day since their first kiss at the Villeneuve Holiday Festival, and yet she _still_ got butterflies whenever he smiled at her. Would that feeling ever go away? She hoped not. It had quickly become one of her favourite feelings.

In truth, Eugene Fitzherbert had quickly become one of her favourite _people_. She’d lived an incredibly sheltered life until she went away to university, with her mother keeping her under lock and key most of the time. What she had always assumed was just overprotectiveness, she was slowly beginning to understand was actually abuse – psychological if not physical. When she first came to live on campus, she’d been terrified of her own shadow, all because her mother had convinced her that the world was a dark and scary place and that she needed to be wary of everyone and everything in it. But she had _friends_ now; friends who were helping her acclimate to the world outside of that tiny apartment. And she had _Eugene_.

Aside from Belle, who had been her move-in buddy and roommate from the moment of her arrival on campus, Eugene was the first person who had shown her kindness. He’d noticed that she looked lost and lonely as she sat alone in the Diner, so he brought her a milkshake and gave her a smile. In her opinion, _he_ was far sweeter than the milkshakes he served; it was like he’d made it his _mission_ to make her smile – and it was a mission that he took very seriously.

They’d had so many adventures since that first day in the Diner, from road trips to the county fair to sleigh rides; from planned afternoons in local art galleries to spontaneous trips to the beach… She just had _fun_ with Eugene. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was _living_ , and she was certain that her art reflected those feelings. Everything she was producing lately was lively and colourful, full of movement and passion and _life_.

Rapunzel tended to lose herself when she painted; her mind would get sucked into the swirling colours and, before she knew it, her sketchbook would have multiple new additions. Today was no exception. She ended up spending the better part of her day painting, producing water colour renditions of the world outside, of the Dreamweaver Diner and its occupants, of her friends from memory (Dani and Jim singing their hearts out with her own set design as their backdrop; Adam and Belle in the library, surrounded by brightly coloured piles of books; and Ryley singing and baking cookies while a rather cartoony Will hovered over her shoulder with literal heart-eyes and several hearts around his head), and _Eugene_. Rapunzel had devoted several pages to doing an artistic study of her boyfriend, from the sharp sweep of his jawline to his dark, floppy hair to those brown eyes that were warmer than the longest day of the summer…

“…Blondie? Helloooooo? Earth to Sunshine!”

Rapunzel jumped when she realized the person in question was now standing in front of her, an eyebrow raised and an amused smirk on his face.

“Sorry, I was just…”

“Lost in concentration,” Eugene observed, hands in his pockets. Smirking to himself at the _very_ flattering rendition of him that she’d been concentrating so intently on, Eugene nodded toward the window. Looking up, Rapunzel was startled to see that the rain was no longer a pleasant summer shower; it was a _total downpour_. Raindrops were bouncing off of every surface they hit, the cascading water turning the puddles she’d jumped in into ponds.

“I’m guessing you walked here this morning?” Eugene asked and Rapunzel just nodded, dumbfounded. Had she really zoned out _so completely_ for the entire day that she’d failed to notice a _torrential downpour?_

Pulling out his keys from his pocket, Eugene gave them a playful jingle to pull Rapunzel’s attention away from the window, offering her a smile.

“Come on. I’ll give you a ride back to school.”

Returning his smile, Rapunzel gathered up all of her art supplies and slipped them back into her bag, pulling on her jacket and kissing his cheek as she got to her feet, umbrella in hand as she declared, “You’re the _best_.”

Grinning to himself, feigning arrogance, Eugene draped his arm around Rapunzel’s shoulders and kissed her temple as he stated, “I know.”

Fondly rolling her eyes, she followed him out of the Diner and they _bolted_ across the parking lot to Eugene’s practically ancient truck. The white paint was chipping, and it had a tendency to stall whenever they were _just_ out of range for cellphone reception, but Rapunzel had a fondness for the beaten-up lemon. Just a few weeks ago, they had driven as far from town as they could get and then hunkered down in the bed of the truck with a blanket and a giant bag of M&M’s to look at stars. Rapunzel had offhandedly mentioned that she could never see the stars properly from the window of her mother’s apartment, so a proper stargazing expedition had been Eugene’s solution.

When they climbed up into the truck and tugged the doors shut behind them, they were both already soaked. Rapunzel’s long hair was sopping wet and dripping everywhere, and Eugene’s jeans and t-shirt were, thanks to his forgoing a jacket this morning, totally drenched.

Giggling, Rapunzel said, “You look like a drowned rat.”

_“Me?”_ Eugene asked, turning to face her. “Well, _you_ look like… a drowned _mouse_.”

Biting her lip, she clearly was trying her best not to laugh, but neither of them succeeded. They dissolved into giggles, the both of them, as Eugene started the engine and cranked the heat, throwing on the windshield wipers. Thunder rumbled as they made the short drive back to campus, and Rapunzel shifted to rest her head on Eugene’s shoulder as she watched the summer evening drench the world.

“I really do love the rain,” she stated over the sound of it hitting the truck’s roof, and Eugene grinned curiously as he pulled up near her dormitory.

“You love looking like a drowned mouse?” he joked and she jabbed him with her elbow, shaking her head.

“I _mean_ it. Growing up, I used to _love it_ when it would rain. I would open my window and lean out and just let it _soak_ me.” Pursing her lips, she added, “Mother never let me play in the rain. She said I’d get sick and die. And she told me this horrible story about _acid_ rain once…”

“Which is about as common as quicksand,” Eugene mumbled, frowning. The more Rapunzel talked about her mother and the things she used to say to frighten her away from ever leaving home, the more he _despised_ the woman. How could anyone be so cruel? How could anyone try to _trap_ someone as brilliant as Rapunzel and hide her away from the world forever…?

After a moment, he shut off the truck and unfastened his seatbelt with a simple instruction of, “Come on.”

Blinking, Rapunzel watched as he climbed out of the truck and into the pouring rain, her lips once again pulling up into a smile as she asked, clearly amused, “What are you _doing?”_

“We’re going to play in the rain!” he insisted, shutting his door and walking over to open hers, unbuckling her seatbelt for her and lifting her out of the truck, prompting her to squeal as he spun her around before setting her on her feet. Her hair now plastered to her face, Rapunzel reached up to push it back from her eyes, laughing as she shook her head.

“But you _hate_ the rain!” she protested, still giggling. Eugene had made that clear the time they got stranded outside of town in similar conditions to these. His truck had blown a tire and he had to fix it himself, given neither of them had any cellphone reception. He’d climbed back into the truck afterward covered in mud and extremely displeased with a declaration of, “ _Disgusting devil water_.”

Shrugging, Eugene held his arms out wide, letting the rain soak him thoroughly.

“I also hate snow. That didn’t stop me from helping you kick everyone’s asses at the Holiday Festival’s snowman building competition, now did it?”

Rapunzel felt the butterflies in her stomach _swarm,_ fanning the embers burning in her heart. Eugene really _did_ do everything he possibly could to make her happy, didn’t he? Even if it wasn’t necessarily how he would normally pass his time, he’d give anything a shot once on the off change that it might make her smile. So, smile she did – or, rather, she _beamed_ at Eugene as she ran forward, pointedly jumping and landing in a large puddle directly in front of him, effectively splattering mud on his jeans.

_“Yeah!”_ he exclaimed, earning more laughter from Rapunzel, and he grinned widely as he watched her run off through the courtyard, spinning and squealing with delight. For a moment, he just stood there and watched her, and he felt his heart swelling the longer he took in her pure, unbridled _joy_. There really was no one else in the world like Rapunzel; she was sunshine personified, and he was going to make sure that no one ever kept that light hidden ever again. She deserved to _shine_.

“Eugene! Come on!” she called out to him from the other side of the courtyard as she leapt into another lake-sized puddle with a laugh, and his soft grin widened as he took off running to join her, jumping in the puddle himself and splattering her open raincoat and summer dress with speckles of mud. Some of it even hit her cheek, and he couldn’t help laughing at the way her eyes widened.

“Oh, you are going to _pay_ for that, Fitzherbert,” she warned him, and Eugene smirked cheekily.

“That implies you can catch me,” he stated before taking off running, and Rapunzel bolted after him. He made it roughly halfway across the courtyard before she pounced on his back, her arms flying around his neck while her legs wrapped around his waist, effectively smearing his t-shirt with mud, and he quickly grabbed onto her legs to steady her, snickering when she whispered, “ _Caught ya_ ,” in his ear.

“You did,” he observed with a smirk, giving her thighs a gentle squeeze, and his smile grew rather dopey when Rapunzel kissed his cheek before sliding down his back and moving to stand in front of him.

“You’re very sweet, you know,” she mused aloud, her hand clasped in his, and Eugene gazed down at her with a ridiculously smitten grin, twirling her under his arm before sweeping her into a makeshift, very muddy waltz.

“Don’t go telling everyone at the Diner that,” he countered as he held her close. “Flynn is a _bad boy_. And a fake reputation is all a singing waiter has.”

“It’s certainly good for tips,” she agreed, smirking playfully.

Kissing her nose, Eugene joked, “I’ve got to pay for all of your complimentary milkshakes _somehow_.”

Gazing up at Eugene as he spun her slowly around the courtyard, rain dripping from his nose and his eyelashes, Rapunzel couldn’t help herself; the words bubbled past her lips, like drops of rain from a cloud.

“I love you.”

It took Eugene stopping their dance for her to fully realize what she said, and the significance that it held. She’d only ever said those words to her mother before – but, the longer she spent away from home with people who actually make her feel _good_ about herself and her place in the world, the more Rapunzel realized that she hadn’t fully understood what she was saying back then. Because her mother didn’t _act_ like she loved her, and what Rapunzel felt for her wasn’t _really_ love. It was _fear._

But Eugene… she _did_ love him. She loved him because he didn’t make her feel small or scared; he made her feel warm and safe, and like she could take on the entire world if she wanted to. He made her _happy_. And, when you love someone, you should feel _good_ about it.

“I’m not going to take it back,” she bravely declared after a moment of silence, certainty clear on her freckled, mud-speckled face. “I mean it. I love you, Eugene.”

Eugene blinked a few times, and his voice was quiet when he finally admitted, “…nobody’s ever said that to me before.”

And, deep in her heart, Rapunzel felt something break. Because, when she said those three words, she hadn’t considered that maybe she was the _first person_ to ever say them to him. She hadn’t considered that, while she had a bad mother, Eugene never had a mother at all. He never had a real home or a family; she spent her childhood secluded, but he spent his all alone.

“Oh, Eugene. I’m-” Rapunzel started to say but he cut her off.

Staring down at Rapunzel, his heart full to bursting, Eugene blurted out, “I love you, too. So much. You don’t even know how much.”

They stared at each other, raindrops sliding down their cheeks, for a long moment before Rapunzel lurched forward, tossing her arms around Eugene’s neck and pressing a firm kiss to his lips. His eyes widened momentarily before he melted into it, lifting her a few feet off of the ground as he kissed her back.

Upstairs in the dormitory, Dani was sitting on Belle’s bed painting her toenails, only to pause as she glanced out the window.

“Is that Rapunzel and Eugene?” she asked, squinting through the rain-soaked glass at the two people making out in the courtyard. Getting up from where she was sitting at her desk, pouring through one of the textbooks that she’d already purchased for the fall semester, Belle smirked and gave her head a little shake.

“Do you know anyone _else_ who would run around in a downpour?”

Smiling herself as she watched Eugene spin Rapunzel around, Dani returned to painting her toenails as she stated, with all of the certainty in the world, “Jim.”


	4. Meet Me in the Pouring Rain

The ring was burning a hole in Jim’s pocket as he paced around Will and Ryley’s apartment, pulling at his hair. The leaseholders were staring at him and intermittently glancing at each other, and then glancing at Janet and Leonard, who were sitting next to them.

“Jim, I’m going to get real with you,” Janet finally broke the silence. “I’ve been there since day one, and I can tell you, with all of the certainty in my heart, that you’re being a _dumbass._ ”

“And not the fun kind,” Ryley agreed.

“But I’ve been planning this proposal for _months!_ ” Jim exclaimed, his eyes wild. Pointing accusatory fingers at Leonard and Will, he added, “And you promised you’d help! We rehearsed that song for longer than I rehearsed _any_ of the songs in _any_ of the musicals we’ve done-”

“We rehearsed with a bright, sunny autumn day in mind,” Adam disagreed as he exited the kitchen, a steaming cup of tea in hand. “It’s _pouring_. And, idolize the Backstreet Boys though I may, I don’t want to re-enact the ‘Drowning’ music video.”

“Still not as good as NSYNC,” Eugene called from the kitchen, where he and Rapunzel were throwing together a stir-fry, and Adam opened his mouth to retaliate against Eugene’s slanderous comment, only stopping because Belle literally clapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up, a cup of tea in her own hand.

“Stupid boy band remarks aside-” Adam made a disgruntled noise against Belle’s palm, earning himself a pointed glare before she continued speaking, looking back at Jim, “Adam is right. You can’t do a serenade proposal in the middle of a downpour. Dani will insist on knowing _why_ we’re dragging her out in the rain, and then the surprise will be ruined. You’ll just have to wait until the storm clears up.”

“But it _can’t_ wait!” Jim protested with frustration. None of them _understood._

“Why?” Leonard asked from the couch, proving Jim’s point.

“Because she leaves for New York in less than two weeks, and if I wait any longer than _tonight_ , it’ll seem like it was last minute and rushed and like I did it as some lame attempt to get her to stay here!” Shooting Leonard an accusatory glare, Jim added, “We _would_ have been ready to do this _weeks_ ago if you’d learned the choreography faster!”

“I’m a _resident_ , not a _thespian!_ ” Leonard retorted with a huff, pointing a finger in Jim’s direction. “Don’t go taking out your angst about Dani moving on me! I gave up shifts at the hospital to rehearse this thing, and _you_ are the coward who decided not to go with her. That’s not my fault. It’s nobody’s fault but your own.”

“I’m not a _coward-_ ” Jim tried to interject, but Janet cut him off.

“You kind of are,” she told him, much to his wide-eyed disbelief. “Don’t look at me like that! You know that it’s true. You’re _talented_ , Jim. You could land a gig with no trouble at all in New York. You’re just too afraid to commit.”

“ _Too afraid to_ -? I’ve literally got an engagement ring in my pocket and you’re telling me I’m _scared of commitment?”_ Jim asked with disbelief, turning his head when Rapunzel spoke from the kitchen doorway.

“You’re not afraid to commit to _Dani_ , but you _are_ afraid to commit to your dream. What was the point of switching to a theatre degree if you aren’t going to _use_ it?”

“You all have _no idea_ what you’re talking about,” Jim complained, shaking his head. “Dani is going to New York because she already _has_ an Off-Broadway gig lined up there. I can’t just _move to New York_ with no prospects at all! That’s how people lose _everything_.”

“And what’s your plan for after the proposal, then?” Will asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. “What are you going to do if she says yes? You can’t expect her to travel back and forth between here and New York all the time to plan a wedding while she’s in the middle of rehearsals, and then previews. Where will you have the wedding? And what are you going to do if she says _no?_ Why would she want to risk limiting her dreams for somebody who is, for no reason other than being afraid, limiting his own?”

Jim stared at Will, completely agape. He wanted to be pissed. He wanted to scream. He wanted to shake them all and tell them to shut the fuck up.

He wanted to do all of those things because, deep down, he knew that they were right. He was afraid, and he was limiting himself, but he couldn’t help feeling like, if he tried to chase some theatrical dream, he’d be some kind of fraud. Theatre hadn’t been his dream for _nearly_ as long as it had been Dani’s, or Adam’s, or Ryley’s or Janet’s; he just swept in out of the blue and decided, “ _Hey, this is kind of fun._ ” And did he love it? Yes. Was he good at it? People seemed to think so. But what right did he have to presume he was good enough for Broadway when he hadn’t worked nearly as hard as everyone else had?

“I can’t go with her to New York because I don’t _deserve_ to. There. Are you all _happy_ now?” Jim asked, rather dejectedly, frowning and crossing the living room to stare at Ryley’s vinyl collection of Broadway cast recordings.

“Why the _hell_ would you think something stupid like that?” Leonard asked, breaking the tense silence that had fallen, and Jim rolled his eyes at his friend’s trademark brazenness.

“Because I’ve only been doing this for, what, six years? Dani’s been doing it her entire _life_. What right do I have to walk into auditions for shows of the same caliber as hers? She _deserves_ to succeed. I’m just… a _joke_ who fucked around for most of his life, never settling on any dream long enough to actually pursue it.”

Everyone fell quiet again. After what felt like an eternity of just looking at each other, trying to figure out what to say, Adam stated, “If you’re a joke, then so am I. I let my father dictate what I was allowed to pursue and what was a waste of my time for _twenty-one years_. I _loved_ the arts, but I let him force me into a business degree because I was too much of a coward to object.”

Biting her lip as Jim turned around to face them again, Ryley added, “I’m a joke, too. I let my family convince me that I had no talent and couldn’t sing for most of my life. It’s why I became an engineer; I had to give up my old dream and find a new one. _I_ didn’t get my first shot at performing until _Hairspray_ , either. Does that make me any less of a performer?”

Jim never knew _that_. Frowning, he answered, “No… but-”

“I spent the first eighteen years of my life locked in a tiny apartment, never once showing anyone my work until I sent my portfolio off to art schools,” Rapunzel quietly interrupted, resting her hand over Eugene’s when he gently squeezed her shoulder. “Does that make me less of an artist?”

“Of _course_ not,” Jim quickly disagreed, clearly flustered.

“I think what everyone is trying to say,” Belle cut in, glancing around the room before her gaze fell on Jim, “is that it’s never too late to take life by the reins and do what _you_ want to do with it. If you love theatre, and you love Dani, then _go to New York with her_. Don’t wait until your chance passes you by.”

Jim glanced around at all of the earnest faces of his friends – friends that he’d made _because_ of theatre. He was where he was right now because he’d pursued this crazy, last-minute dream of his – and maybe they were right. Maybe he _would_ be an idiot to stop now.

“Fine!” he finally gave in, throwing his hands in the air, the ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. “I’ll go to New York! I’ll follow my stupid dreams! _Now_ are you happy?”

The enthusiastic response of everyone in the apartment seemed to prove the affirmative. Although, nobody expected _Leonard_ to be the one to jump up and declare, “Let’s get a move on, then.”

“Where?” Janet asked, snickering to herself.

They all gaped at Leonard when he stated, “The proposal!”

When everyone just stared at him, he grumbled, “ _What?_ We all know the rain won’t _really_ piss Dani off. Girls love it when romantic stuff happens in the rain.” Still, everyone just stared at him until, finally, he shouted, “I’ve seen _The Notebook_ , okay?!”

After a few more seconds of staring, everyone jumped into action to get ready.

* * *

“ _Why_ will none of you tell me why you suddenly all want to go for a walk in the rain?” Dani asked, begrudgingly following Ryley, Janet, Belle and Rapunzel through the park, five umbrellas sheltering them from the raindrops. It wasn’t a _total_ downpour anymore, given the umbrellas seemed to suffice, but she still couldn’t understand the strange urge that all of her friends seemed to have at once to go for a walk at 10:30 PM. It likely had something to do with her leaving for New York so soon; one last bizarre outing together or something of the like.

She certainly hadn’t been expecting the bandstand down the path to suddenly burst into brilliant life in the rainy darkness, its twinkle-lights sparkling as music filtered from its built-in speakers. It was normally used for choir performances during the Holiday Festival or for local bands to perform in the summer, but it was currently _10:30 PM on a Tuesday in October._ It took Dani a moment to realize that it was neither a choir, nor a local band, about to perform, but _Jim_ – and Will, and Adam, and Eugene, and… _Leonard?_ He roped poor Leonard into doing whatever this was?

They were all dressed in white, like something out of a cheesy ‘90s music video, and Janet nudged Dani with a grin as the boys started singing backup harmonies while Jim sang lead.

“ _One-hundred and five is the number that comes to my head when I think of all the years I wanna be with you. Wake up every morning with you in my bed; that’s precisely what I plan to do._ ”

As the music started in full swing, Dani watched with wide-eyed amusement as they all started dancing in surprisingly well-choreographed unison – even Leonard.

“ _And I know one of these days, when I get my money right, buy you everything and show you all the finer things in life. We’ll forever be in love, so there ain’t no need to rush – but one day I won’t be able to ask you loud enough… I’ll say, ‘Will you marry me?’ I swear that I will mean it._ ”

Dani’s amusement turned to full-on _gaping_ when she realized just what, exactly, Jim was singing – and then they were all dancing down off of the bandstand and into the rain, and her friends were stepping back from around her and putting down their umbrellas.

“ _I’ll say, ‘Will you marry me?’ Sing it._ ”

Perfectly on cue, his four backup singers started to harmonize again, lifting their hands to hold them parallel to their dance partner’s as they circled each other, and Dani lifted a hand to cover her surprised expression as her gaze flitted from Leonard and Janet to Belle and Adam, and then to Eugene and Rapunzel and Ryley and Will. All of them dancing, all of them _perfectly choreographed_ , while Jim sang to her. _When_ did they do all of this? _How_ did they do all of this without her knowing about it?

“ _How many girls in the world could make me feel like this? Baby, I don’t ever plan to find out. The more I look, the more I find the reasons why… you’re the love of my life…_ ”

Jim was smiling that all-too-pleased with himself, ever-so-smug and cheeky smile as he sang to her, and Dani could feel her eyes watering enough to rival the rain that was currently hitting her umbrella and falling on all of her friends.

“ _You know one of these days, when I get my money right, buy you everything and show you all the finer things in life. We’ll forever be in love, so there ain’t no need to rush, but one day I won’t be able to ask you loud enough…_ ”

Everyone was _waltzing_ , their wet hair curling and clinging to their faces while the boys’ now soaked white shirts clung all too provocatively to their bodies, and at any other time Dani would have been inclined to rake her eyes over _Jim’s_ soaked self, but all she could focus on were his face, his eyes, and the _words_ he was singing to her. It was all so ridiculously _romantic._

“ _I’ll say, ‘Will you marry me?’ I swear that I will mean it. I’ll say, ‘Will you marry me?’ And if I lost everything, in my heart it means nothing – ‘cause I have you, girl, I have you… I’ll get right down on bended knee; nothing else would ever be better, better, the day I say…_ ”

Jim chose that moment to _genuinely_ get down on one knee while their friends waltzed in a choreographed circle around them, the boys twirling the girls beneath their arms, and Dani felt her breath hitch when Jim _actually_ pulled a ring out of his jacket pocket. It was nothing extravagant, but it was _beautiful_ , and her tears flowed freely when he sang, “ _Will you marry me? I swear that I will mean it. I’ll say, ‘Will you marry me…?_ ”

Jim left the question open, and Dani gasped in a breath when she realized it was her moment to answer. Dropping down to her knees, she tossed her umbrella aside and shouted, “Yes! Yes, of course I will! You big, ridiculous idiot…”

Grabbing his face, Dani kissed him with so much force that he fell over backwards onto the wet cobblestone, and Jim’s laughter echoed over the speakers in the bandstand before he kissed Dani again. Breaking off their waltzes, all of their friends beamed as they continued to sing the final harmonies, the notes mingling with laughter as they all twirled, entirely unchoreographed, around in the rain together. Janet cackled gleefully when Leonard pulled her into a clumsy tango; Rapunzel’s giggles blended together with Eugene’s laughter as he swept her off her feet and spun her around; Will smirked and dipped Ryley dramatically before pressing a pointed kiss to her lips that made her foot pop like it does in the movies; and Adam spun Belle beneath his arm once more before grabbing both of her hands, the two of them spinning directly into a large puddle.

From their spot on the cobblestones, Jim had finally pulled back long enough to slip the ring onto Dani’s finger, his blue eyes shining as he gazed at his now thoroughly drenched girlfriend.

“Do you think it’s too late to book an extra seat on that flight to New York?” he asked over their friends’ laughter, and Dani’s eyes widened.

“You’re serious?” she asked, and Jim nodded, cupping her cheek with a grin.

“Deadly serious.”

Without bothering to answer his question about the timeliness of booking flights, Dani pounced on Jim again, all but pinning him to the cobblestones as she kissed him.

They were all completely soaked, but none of them seemed to mind in the slightest. After all, what harm did a little rain ever do? Rain brings blossoms; new life; new _love_ ; and, with it, new beginnings. And their stories were all just getting started…


End file.
